


The One Where Tony is Bruce's Weakness

by JinxQuickfoot



Series: Weaknesses [27]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Feels, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Captivity, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra, Kidnapped Tony Stark, Kidnapping, Missions Gone Wrong, Panic Attacks, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Protective Bruce Banner, Protective Tony Stark, Science Bros, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23682919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxQuickfoot/pseuds/JinxQuickfoot
Summary: “Bruce!” Tony is shaking his shoulder. “Do we…is it Code Green time?”They don’t get the chance to decide. There’s a bang and the smell of gun powder and then Tony is on the ground next to him, cursing as the snow around him turns red.----------------------------------------------------------------------------Set between Avengers and Avengers: Age of Ultron. Tony and Bruce get separated from their team during their Hydra takedown.
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Tony Stark
Series: Weaknesses [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672462
Comments: 121
Kudos: 182
Collections: Weaknesses





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Day 27 of the "Weaknesses" writing challenge
> 
> [Come say hi on Tumblr - I take requests!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jinxquickfoot)

Siberia is _cold._

Of course Siberia is cold - it’s Siberia. In _winter_. Not helped by the fact that Bruce is only in a pair of shorts, and there’s no shelter in sight. The only patch of warmth on his body is where Tony is gripping his hand, only slightly better off in the dry-fit clothes he always wears under his Iron Man suit, now left broken and abandoned in the snow miles behind them.

Tony is pulling Bruce along, following the sun as it starts to sink below the horizon. Bruce watches its decline with an increasing dread - they won’t survive the night out here. Correction: _Tony_ won’t survive the night out here. Bruce hasn’t tested out subjecting the Hulk to extreme cold, but he has little doubt the Other Guy is immune to that as well. They have a last-ditch plan; if they don’t get back to the quinjet soon, Bruce is to turn green, grab Tony, and run.

And announce their location to every Hydra operative that is chasing them through the Siberian wilderness.

Bruce’s bare foot catches on something buried in the snow and he pitches forward, almost bringing Tony down with him. Tony is at his side in an instant, his hands on his shoulders. Bruce feels the flair of pain and has to bite down on the Other Guy’s insistence that he needs to come out - _now._

_“_ Bruce? You ok, buddy?”

Bruce looks down at his feet, which look fine except for the fact they’re turning blue. “Yeah,” he mutters, accepting Tony’s hand and letting the engineer pull him to his feet. “Imagine if we died because of a stubbed toe.”

“Not an option.” Tony gives Bruce a moment to catch his breath. “I’m either going to die at a hundred and two with Pepper or in some glorious act that saves the universe and makes everyone cry at my funeral.”

“Those are the only two options, huh?”

“Yep. Freezing to death or shot by Hydra isn’t on the list.” Tony glances at the sky. “You ready? Sun’s getting real low.”

Bruce snorts at the wry joke and starts to walk, only to stumble again, this time from tiredness. The team have been taking out Hydra bases throughout Europe for weeks now, and this one had required a Code Green that had left him drained and exhausted even before he had seen Tony shot out of the sky and chased after him. Whatever they had hit Iron Man with, it was enough that between the missile and the impact of hitting the ground, the suit had been destroyed, including the comms. Luckily the Other Guy had agreed that their ‘Tin Man’ had needed a doctor more than a monster at that point, and now…

“We can’t be too far,” Tony says as he loops his arm around Bruce’s waist. Bruce almost flinches at the sudden heat on his bare skin. “We must be nearly there. Or they must be nearly at _us._ I know Romanoff would love to ditch me in the snow and claim it was an accident, but she’s not going to leave her favourite Jolly Green.”

“Nat wouldn’t leave you,” Bruce mutters. His teeth have started chattering. “None of them would.”

“I know. I design and pay for all their fancy toys.”

“Not because of that.”

Tony pulls Bruce closer against him and starts to make his way forward again, following the sun. “I’m trying to lighten the mood, Banner. As opposed to thinking about what freezing to death is like. I’ve actually heard it’s not that bad, as far as deaths go. You get all warm and happy and then you go to sleep. Just promise that if I snuff it that you’ll play AC/DC at my funeral. Screw what Pepper says about it being 'inappropriate'.”

“You’re not going to…”

Bruce isn’t aware of hitting the ground. He’s just suddenly there, lying in the snow.

“Bruce!” Tony is shaking his shoulder. “Do we…is it Code Green time?”

“That will bring every Hydra agent who escaped the base down on us. Which was a lot of them.”

“Or broadcast the same location to our team and they can finally get their asses over here.”

They don’t get the chance to decide. There’s a bang and the smell of gun powder and then Tony is on the ground next to him, cursing as the snow around him turns red.

“Tony!” Bruce rolls to his knees, hands finding the spot on Tony’s shoulder where the blood is gushing from. He presses down as hard as he can with shaking hands, even as black-clad figures emerge from the trees, guns pointed straight at them.

Hydra has found them.

Bruce feels the surge of the Other Guy inside him, is ready to let him rear his head and take over when he sees the red dots of light trained on Tony’s forehead.

Of the dozen or so Hydra agents that are now surrounding them, none have their guns aimed at him. They’re all pointed at Tony.

Bruce clamps down on the Other Guy, even as he roars his disapproval at him, as one of the Hydra operatives approaches him. He’s better fitted out than the others, his black uniform distinguished by two white stripes crossing over his chest, face obscured by a helmet.

“Doctor Banner,” the man says, not moving his gun’s aim away from Tony. “We haven’t had the pleasure. Brock Rumlow.”

Bruce can see Tony start to talk, no doubt some quip or insult but Bruce shushes him with a low, “Save your strength.”

“Sweet.” Rumlow takes a few steps closer until he’s standing right above the two of him. “We’re going to take a trip back to the base your friends didn’t manage to destroy.” Bruce’s breath catches in his throat. Surely Rumlow doesn’t mean…

“Oh they’re alive,” Rumlow smirks at him. “They retreated. Ran from the fight with their tail between their legs when they realised they couldn’t win. Now,” he pulls back the hammer of the gun pointed at Tony. “Come quietly, and if I see one hint of green, Stark’s going to see red.”

“Very poetic,” Tony mutters. His eyes are fluttering, and it’s clear he’s on the verge of passing out.

“Stay with me,” Bruce says softly as he pulls Tony to his feet. He looks around at the Hydra operatives, at Rumlow, at the guns pointed at Tony’s blood-soaked chest. “Stay with me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are lovely. You are lovable. You are loved. You probably already knew that, but we all need reminding now and again. So this is me reminding you. You are lovely, lovable and loved.

As the truck bounces through the snowy Siberian forest, Bruce grapples for a silver lining and settles on the fact that their Hydra captors seem to want both him and Tony alive. They don’t restrain either of them, although there is always at least three weapons trained on Tony as Bruce tends to the shoulder injury. There’s an exit wound, which means at least he doesn’t need to dig the bullet out. Rumlow hands him strange gauze-like substance which snaps over Tony’s shoulder like a second skin and stops the bleeding, although there’s nothing Bruce can do to replace the blood lost. He makes do with keeping Tony hydrated and conscious as the truck makes its way towards the Hydra base their team had set out to destroy just that morning.

Even in the fading light, Bruce can see that the destruction of the base is minimal, as though the Avengers hadn’t even been there at all. He stumbles as they usher him out of the truck, Tony leaning heavily on his shoulder. He barely has the energy to expend to keep both of them upright, but glares at the agents who try and assist, pulling Tony closer to him.

There are no signs that the Avengers have taken a second attack at the base. They’re probably still scouring the woods for their missing teammates, or have retreated to regroup and figure out a new plan. Bruce can only hope that either he or Tony can escape long enough to send them a message, or they’ll figure out that Hydra has them on their own and come for them.

Gun barrels urge him to move, but he only gets a step before he falters, almost tumbling to the ground and taking Tony with him. Rumlow considers them for a moment, then holsters his gun and moves forward, smirking as Bruce holds onto his friend, his stance defensive despite his exhaustion.

Rumlow goes to take Tony anyway. “I’ll be gentle with him, promise.”

The words make Tony stir, fingers digging into Bruce’s shoulder as he takes more of his own weight. “I can walk.”

“Not quickly enough.” Before either of them can protest further, Rumlow steps forward, looping an arm under Tony’s injured shoulder and tugging him out of Bruce’s grip. Bruce tries to hold onto him, only for Tony to give a small cry of pain as the movement jostles the bullet wound and, instinctively, Bruce lets go. Rumlow doesn’t. He locks an arm around Tony’s waist, Tony too weak to fight back, Bruce not daring to bring out the Other Guy until Tony is well out of the way.

Not seeing another option, Bruce follows Rumlow inside.

The interior is barely warmer than the exterior, and Bruce is shivering as they’re marched through several corridors and rooms that all look identical to each other. Bruce forces himself to focus - to map a route back to the exit for when he sees a chance to escape. And there _will_ be a chance to escape, he reminds himself. Both he and Tony have been in these kinds of situations before, and have gotten themselves out. Eventually, their captors will make a mistake, and then they’ll be back in the warm Avengers quinjet with their friends.

The hopeful thoughts vanish the moment Bruce sees the Box.

The Box (he can’t help but capitalise it) is hardly bigger than a coffin, although it bears the same shape. It’s constructed from a thick, reinforced metal, bolted to the floor in several places. The lid is currently open so Bruce can see the heavy bolts welded into it, can see where they’ll be locked down once the Box is closed.

It doesn’t take even one of Bruce’s seven PHDs to see who the Box is built for. 

“No.” Bruce shakes his head, backing away and finding two Hydra agents at his back, blocking his path to the door. “No way.”

His gaze is only torn away from it when he hears the click of a gun. Rumlow has drawn his weapon and shoved it into Tony’s ribs, tightening his grip as the engineer struggles to extricate himself.

“Get in,” Rumlow orders.

“Banner.” Tony draws Bruce’s attention to him. He’s shaking his head, his expression set. “Everyone in this room knows that I am far more useful alive than dead in nearly every scenario. They won’t shoot me, so don’t you dare - _ah!”_ He breaks off with a shout of pain as Rumlow grabs his injured shoulder, pressing down hard.

“Get in,” Rumlow repeats as Tony squirms beneath him, lips pressed together, but Rumlow is stronger and Tony is injured. A fresh spurt of red stains the gauze as Tony goes paper-white.

“Stop!” Bruce takes a deep breath, hates that he’s shaking, that he can’t hide the fear as he starts moving away from the door, from escape. “Don’t hurt him.”

_The team is coming_ , he reminded himself. _They know the base is here. They’ll be looking for you. This won’t be for long. The team is coming._

“Bruce, _don’t!”_

But Bruce is already lowering himself into the Box. At least there’s some room to move around and shift, and he reminds himself that it’s not a coffin, this isn’t being buried alive, it’s just a temporary situation - a rest, even - until the team shows up to pull him out.

That’s when Tony is thrown in beside him a moment before all light is shut out, as the lid is thrown over the top of them both and bolted shut.

Bruce allows himself a split second of panic before he prioritises. “Tony?” he whispers, the sound huge in the confined space. “Are you ok?”

He hears Tony’s breath catch in his throat, hears him fighting the same panic Bruce is, before he rights himself. “I’m…yeah. You?”

Bruce nods before he remembers Tony can’t see him. “Yeah.”

“No impulses to turn green?”

Bruce feels a second wave of panic as he takes in the full impact of their situation. The walls of the Box are thick, reinforced, and he’s sure that if he transformed he could break them open. But not straight away. Not without crushing Tony against them.

They’ve planned for this. Planned for him - to keep him contained here as long as they want to.

“Bruce?”

There’s a slight shake to Tony’s voice that Bruce senses is from more than just the cold. “No,” he assures him. “I’m not going to transform.”

“Ok,” Tony murmurs, then louder. “Ok. We are two certified geniuses, right? So I say we have a pretty good chance of figuring this out. The team can’t be too far away.”

“The team is coming.”

“The team is coming,” Tony agrees.

Bruce can feel his breaths turning to gasps, his lungs hampered by Tony’s weight on his chest. Tony must feel it, because he gropes around in the dark for Bruce’s hand. “Ok, hey, it’s alright. Let’s get me off you, yeah? Do you prefer being big spoon or little spoon? Wait, why am I even asking? Everyone likes being the little spoon.’

It takes a good few minutes of shifting and negotiating around Tony’s injured shoulder. “Like the world’s most painful game of Tetris,” Tony quips, as he finally slides next to Bruce instead of on top of him, and Bruce pulls in a full breath. They don’t end up so much in a big spoon-little spoon situation as lying down facing each other, with Bruce’s forehead pressed into Tony’s chest. Bruce feels Tony’s arms wrap around him and follows suit, sharing as much body heat as they can. The sun had been nearly gone by the time the truck had arrived at the base, and it’s only going to get colder from here.

There must be an airhole somewhere because at least they can breathe. Hydra doesn’t seem to have any intention of killing them yet, perhaps after Bruce’s DNA, or Tony’s weapons knowledge, or wanting to use them as bait for others, or all of the above. That said, neither of them are dressed for the cold and Tony’s lost too much blood for comfort, and if Bruce loses control -

His breath hitches in his throat and Tony gives him a gentle squeeze, massaging circles on his bare back with his good arm. “So,” Tony says finally. “Know any jokes?”

Bruce allows himself a smile he knows Tony can’t see. “Was never much good at jokes. But I’m sure you know enough for the two of us.”

“Hm. I think you might have heard all of mine.”

He’s still shaking; they both are, and from more than just cold. Tony doesn’t let them dwell on it, launching into a raunchy tale from his playboy days that Bruce only half listens to, focussing on counting his breaths instead. Tony’s voice becomes soothing white noise as Bruce settles into a meditation. As the moments past, he almost relaxes, settling into Tony’s warmth, breathing slowly in and out, in and out…

“Hey.” A firmness finds its way into the pleasant noise, and Bruce’s eyes jerk open, disorientated as the movement does nothing to dispel the darkness. “Don’t go to sleep.”

“Hm?” Bruce is suddenly wide awake, realising. “Shit. _Shit_. Tony, I’m so sorry -”

“It’s fine, you’re fine. We’re fine.”

Bruce pictures passing out then waking up again. The moment of disorientation, of not knowing where he was and not being able to move, of freaking out - 

“Tony. This is _not_ fine. This is so very far from fine.”

“Ok, yeah, it’s not what I pictured my night looking like either. But it’s ok. We’re ok. Just stay awake. Just in case.”

Bruce buries his head further into Tony’s chest, suddenly becoming very aware of his friend’s beating heart, the goosebumps over his skin, the faint shakes still racking his body. Bruce has never once thought of Tony as fragile. The old saying “Stark men are made of iron” fits his friend to a T. Now though, it feels as though Tony may as well be made of glass.

It’s a sensation Bruce hasn’t felt in a long time. It was how he used to view everyone, all too aware of easily snapped bones, the destruction caused by a lost breath of control. As Tony had said, he had been tip-toeing. And while Bruce was a far cry from turning that tip-toe into a strut, he had at least started to uncoil the tightly wound spring deep inside of him, if only a little. Enough to flop next to Clint on the couch for movie nights and not flinch when the archer placed his feet in Bruce’s lap. Enough to start taking Thor’s overenthusiastic back pats without flinching. Enough to be within a foot of Natasha without fighting a sudden urge to run in the other direction.

Natasha had taken the longest to come round on him, although she had been all cool professionalism as she had done so. Bruce didn’t blame her, not after what had happened on the helicarrier. In fact, he was amazed that after any Hulk incident, let alone one that up close and personal, she had elected to live in the same building as him. That Tony had invited him to live there in the first place.

For the first time in a long time, Bruce had started to relax in the way one only can when they have a place to call home. It had been so easy, to start skipping meditation and breathing practices for lab time with Tony or for game nights with the team or for late-night talks with Natasha on the Tower roof. 

And now there’s a very real chance he’s going to pay for that lapse in discipline. That Tony’s going to pay for it.

Bruce’s hand finds Tony’s uninjured shoulder, clutching it like a lifebuoy. “Don’t let me go to sleep.”

He knows the impossibility of the task even before he says it. He’s exhausted from his last Hulk-out only hours earlier, Tony has lost a lot of blood, and they’re both freezing. They had barely been on their feet before Hydra had caught up to them.

“I won’t,” Tony promises, his voice full of determination. “We’re going to be fine, big guy. We’re going to outlast those tentai-loving bastards and be in a hot shower and a warm bed before you know it. The team’s coming. Just got to stay out of the sand-land until they get here.”

“The team’s coming,” Bruce repeats into Tony’s chest.

“Although,” Tony muses, and then the hand that had been on Bruce’s back is gone. Bruce mourns the comforting touch until he hears Tony fumbling around in the dark and the scrape of skin on metal. There’s a couple of metallic clangs as Tony bangs the lid, and then the sides. “I know I’m getting better at being a team player and all, but no harm in us trying to get through this one ourselves.”

“There won’t be weak points,” Bruce mutters. “They’ve thought this through.”

“Yeah, they have. I’m just willing to bet that they didn’t outthink us.” Tony’s really moving around now, testing each side of the Box. “Come on, Banner, get with the program.”

It’s impossible, and Bruce knows it, but he sees the gesture for the distraction it is and goes along with it. They keep it up long after they know it’s hopeless, letting the activity occupy them until a huge crash on the lid makes them both flinch. Bruce swears as his adrenaline spikes and it’s all he can do not to shove Tony away as his friend wraps him in his arms once more, whispering calming words that Bruce latches onto.

“Also - language,” Tony whispers. “Say that nasty word again and I’m telling Cap on you.”

Bruce allows himself a shaky laugh, bracing for another bang on the Box that doesn’t come.

“Guess they didn’t like us trying to get out,” Tony adds.

“No,” Bruce agrees.

“Not pointless though. Now we know there are guards in the room for when we get out.”

“Tony…”

“I’ll keep looking, but I’ll be quiet, ok? There has to be -”

_“Tony._ There’s not a way out from the inside, alright?”

They’ve both known it from the start, but something about saying the words out loud makes them feel uncomfortably real, and Bruce regrets them as he feels a full-body shiver go through Tony. “The team’s coming,” Bruce repeats.

It’s already a mantra, something to come back to when either of them starts to spiral out of control. Tony must feel that way too because he says the words back. “The team’s coming.”

“Thank you though,” Bruce mutters. “Maybe you could, um, keep distracting me?”

The request is as much for Tony as it is for Bruce. Bruce feels some of the rigid tension in Tony’s shoulders slacken as he’s given a task, something to focus on, some way to help. “Ok. Yeah. Let’s talk. You said you didn’t know any jokes - how about stories?”

“A few, maybe,” Bruce admits. “I’m not much of a storyteller.”

“Come on, all those years on the lam? You gotta have a few.”

“Not really. It was mostly boring if I’m being honest. It was very get-through-the-next-day focussed. Find shelter, find food, find money. I did a bunch of odd jobs, helped in local hospitals where I could. And then any spare moments I had would be spent trying to figure out how to reverse the gamma radiation or how to better control the Other Guy. A lot of breathing involved. A lot of tea. God, I would kill for a cup of tea right now.”

He tenses after he says the words, knowing that there is a very real possibility that he is going to kill today. Even if it isn’t Tony, even if somehow they manage to avoid that fate, there are armed Hydra guards right on the other side of that reinforced metal, and more throughout the base. Bruce doubts the Other Guy is going to hold back on them if he gets out.

“I know what you mean,” Tony says, bringing Bruce’s thoughts back from the dark path they were wandering down. “Like when people always ask for mission stories. You get the odd gem, but mostly it’s just a slog you work through until it’s done. Most of the time you just want to go home and curl up in bed. Not that I haven’t enjoyed our little raiding parties, even though we’re sharing accommodations a bit smaller than one’s used to.”

Bruce’s lips twitch at that. The Avengers mostly camped out in the quinjet between missions. It was quicker and safer than trying to find accommodations in the nearby cities, but it was a small space filled with large personalities and one bathroom. Tony and Steve clashed most often, with Tony being used to having as much space as he liked, while Steve had many months spent in crowded army camps and trenches. It didn’t help that Clint took every opportunity to wind them up even more, and Thor didn’t mean to be so, well, Thor, but many an argument had still boiled over. Bruce mostly rode them out in a corner, headphones firmly over his ears, blocking them out. Natasha would often join him with a smile and a book, seemingly unaffected by the constant chaos.

Tony appears to be on the same wavelength, because Bruce hears him give a quiet snort before he says, “You know what I was thinking before I got shot out of the sky? And yes, I know I should have been focussing more on the fight, but that’s in the past now.”

“What were you thinking?”

“That we’ve spent the last few weeks bickering over dishes and noise and being cramped up like sardines to the point where I feel like I could actually strangle any one of these idiots we call teammates. Then we’re on the battlefield and I’d literally take a bullet for them. And then we get back and I’m annoyed at Clint for using up all our clean coffee mugs - again.”

“What are you getting at?”

Tony shrugs. “I’m not sure. I guess…just trying to balance that equation. Of having each other’s backs in literal life or death situations and yet we still get in each other’s faces over the tiniest thing.”

“That’s what a family does, Tony,” Bruce replies softly. “They annoy the heck out of each other but stay together anyway. It’s not an equation you can solve.”

Tony is quiet for a moment then but seems to come back to himself, as though remembering his promise to keep Bruce distracted. “Yeah, well. I still can’t wait to get my own room back.”

“Don’t you mean your own floor?” 

Tony groans as he shifts, careful not to jostle his shoulder. “God, _yeah_. The Tower seems so spacious right now. I can actually walk into another room without five pairs of eyes watching me. My own bathroom. And being able to play my music as loud as I want.”

“You _do_ play your music as loud as you want.”

“Hey, it’s my quinjet, I can play what I want. Plus, gotta get Cap and Thor caught up on the classics.” After a beat of silence, he adds, “You know what’s super weird though?”

“Two assassins, asuper-solider and a god sharing a tiny jet for weeks on end?”

“I thought you said you didn’t know any jokes.”

“Jokes need a punchline. Anyway, super weird? Aside from, you know, everything since New York?”

“Yeah,” Tony agrees. “Everything. But more than that - I think I’m going to miss it. It’s like summer camp. But in winter. With James Bond-worthy bad guys. And the constant threat of death.”

“We’ll still be in the Tower,” Bruce replies. “Well, I guess Thor will head back to Asguard once he has the scepter, and I know Steve is looking for a new apartment but -” _But I’ll still be there._ A lump in his throat stops him from saying it. That doesn’t feel like a comfort to offer. In a lot of ways, it still feels like a burden.

“I know, I know,” Tony mutters. “And I’m looking forward to getting back to Pepper and Rhodey and Happy, obviously. I’m just saying, in amongst all the bickering, I’ve…I don’t know, I just never expected…” He breaks off, not able to find the words.

Bruce hears them anyway. “Yeah. Me either. They’re coming. The team is coming.”

“The team is coming,” Tony agrees. “Hey, did I ever tell you about me and Rhodey’s spring break? Now _that’s_ a story.”

Tony barrels through another tale that would make Steve blush, but this time Bruce forces himself to focus on Tony’s words, not letting his eyes shut, as heavy as they feel. He wishes he has stories of his own to offer back. He’s sure he does, somewhere, from _before,_ but they slip away whenever he tries to grasp them. As though they happened to an old friend who he can’t quite remember the face of anymore.

“And that’s why you should never, ever put peanut butter on your -”

“Ok, yep, I got the picture thanks.”

“Don’t be a prude.”

“I’m not a prude for not wanting to picture your junk covered in -”

He breaks off as there are distant sounds from outside. Sounds of a battle. Of a _rescue._

“They’re here,” Bruce breaths, his voice cracking in relief. “Oh god, Tony. They’re here.”

He didn’t fall asleep. He didn’t Hulk out. He didn’t hurt Tony. They’re ok.

The bolts on top of the Box slide open and it's all Bruce can do not to whimper in relief as fresh air and light flood the cramped space.

The relief lasts as long as it takes for Tony to give a strangled yelp as he’s tugged out of Bruce’s grip, and Bruce doesn’t hold on tight enough, because he’s expecting Steve’s face when he opens his eyes, or Thor’s or Clint’s or Natasha’s. When he sees who is actually grabbing Tony Bruce lunges for him, desperate to pull him back into the space only a second ago they had both wished to escape from.

He feels the pull of the Other Guy and is only stopped from letting him loose when Rumlow’s gun finds the side of Tony’s head. Rumlow drags the injured mechanic from the box, Tony trying and failing to twist out of his grip. Bruce just gets a glimpse of Tony’s wide eyes before Rumlow slams the lid shut again with a, “I see the big green guy, Stark’s dead. Got it?”

The lid being locked into place sounds like a gunshot.

Even though he now has more space to move around in, the forced confinement is a hundred times worse now Tony is gone. Bruce wraps his arms around himself instead, thinking he’s going to shake out of his skin at the loss of Tony’s body heat, trying not to picture what exactly Hydra is doing with his friend. Rumlow’s threat rings in his ears and he forces himself to focus on his breathing, on the mantra. _The team is coming. The team is coming._

His brain keeps wanting to pull him off in other, darker directions, the kind that take root in his brain at 1 am in the seconds before he falls asleep, and he can’t fall asleep, not here, not now. He can’t risk waking up disoriented and confused and panicking and losing control and -

He counts his breaths instead. Runs through his and Tony’s latest equations, for an AI Tony refers to as Ultron. The technology is years out of their reach, but that hasn't stopped Tony from trying, hasn’t stopped Bruce from helping. His heart rate starts to slow as he runs the numbers that never add up through his mind, again and again and again, trying to find solutions. He doesn’t find them, but that’s not the point. The point is staying calm until he knows Tony is safe.

It still feels like an age before the lid is opened once more. Tony is thrown back inside, and they’re both locked away again in their metal prison.

It all happens so fast that Bruce’s eyes don’t have time to adjust to the sudden burst of light, and he’s still seeing stars as the bolts slide home. Tony gives a low groan, shuffling closer to him, even as he makes no move to resume their previous embrace-like position.

Any sounds of fighting have long since ended.

“Tony?” Bruce whispers. “Are you ok? What did they do to you?”

Tony just groans again, shifting even closer. Bruce’s heart is suddenly in his mouth. Have they hurt him? He starts to manoeuvre his arms so he can get to Tony’s head to search for injuries, praying that Tony isn’t concussed, or worse.

“Is the team here?” Bruce demands. “Tony, talk to me.”

Tony gives a huff in response, frustrated, and only when Bruce wriggles himself into a position where he can feel Tony’s face does he feel why. Scratchy material is knotted at the back of Tony’s head, blocking his eyes and mouth.

Tony moans again as Bruce runs his hands over  his head, checking for injuries. “Sorry, sorry,” Bruce murmurs. A light brush of Tony’s shoulders confirms that they’ve also pinned Tony’s arms behind his back, disregarding his injured shoulder. Bruce prays they’ve used rope or something he can untie. Given the bullet wound, Bruce decides to start by freeing his friend’s arms but reconsiders when Tony lets out a muffled whine, butting his forehead against Bruce’s shoulder.

“Ok, ok. Arms last, got it.” He shuffles one foot between both of Tony’s as he says it, relieved that Tony’s ankles at least are free. The blindfold is easy enough to remove, Bruce shoving the material over Tony’s forehead. It doesn’t make a lick of difference to what Tony can see, but he gives a muffled grunt of thanks anyway.

The gag is tied too tightly to pull out of Tony’s mouth in the same way as the blindfold, so Bruce fumbles around in the darkness, working at the knot. Tony stops squirming and lies still, trying to make it easier for him. He can’t stop shaking though, the movement every so often dislodging Bruce’s hands just as he’s found purchase, and he has to start over.

Tony’s breaths are speeding up, hampered by the cloth in his mouth, so Bruce starts talking again, mumbled strings of “You’re ok” and “I’m nearly there”, even as his own hands tremble, making the task at hand harder than it needs to be.

Tony’s breath catches in his throat just as Bruce undoes the last knot, ripping the soaked material out of Tony’s mouth. “Come on, Tony, breathe. It’s gone - _breathe._ ”

“Bruce -”

“Deep breaths, with me.” Bruce is already running his hands over Tony’s back, searching for his wrists, his heart plummeting when he finds metal cuffs there instead of rope or tape.

“Bruce, the team -”

Bruce’s own breath seems to stop, but he forces himself to keep taking long, slow breaths, pressing his chest to Tony’s, encouraging him to breathe with him. “Hey,” he says, in a low voice that’s a lot calmer than how he feels. “We’re ok. You’re ok. But I need you to slow down so you can tell me what happened.”

There’s a second, and then Bruce feels Tony nod. They breathe together for a while before Tony manages to get out, “The team came.”

Bruce notes the past tense, freezing up before he can stop himself.

“I could hear them fighting,” Tony whispers, all the bravado and joking from earlier gone. “They blindfolded me so I couldn’t see but I could hear. And then Rumlow was on the radio, he- he was talking to Steve, telling him to stand down or, or…”

“Or he’d shoot you.”

There’s a bang that sounds like Tony hitting his head against the side of the Box in anger. “Patriotic idiot,” Tony mumbles, and that’s all he needs to say for Bruce to cotton on.

“He did it,” Bruce whispers. “He surrendered.”

“They all did.” Bruce can feel Tony about to hit his head again and quickly curls a hand around the back of his head, preventing him. “Hey. Don’t do that.”

“They gave themselves up, for _me_. I wanted to tell them not to, I was trying to, but then they gagged me and- ” He draws in a shuddering breath. “This is why we’re the smart ones.”

“Steve wouldn’t have let you get shot,” Bruce assures him. “None of them would have.”

“It wasn’t worth- ” Tony breaks off, leaning into Bruce. “Hydra has them, Bruce. All of them. No one else knows we’re here.” The walls of the Box suddenly feel smaller, like they’re closing in, even before Tony says the next part. “The team’s not coming for us. No one is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: "This will be a quick finish, probably just one more chapter, not much I can do with this premise anyway"  
> Writer's brain: "Bitch hold my vodka let's go"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere in the world there is a dog. There are in fact, many dogs. These dogs would, if they met you, love you unconditionally, and would be very excited if you were to rub their bellies. These dogs think you are an excellent human, and this is true, because dogs are the wisest of us all.

“There’s no way they can contain Thor.”

Tony is back in full planning mode. Bruce lets him ramble on, pretending that the words are comforting, even as he thinks of counter-arguments to every one of Tony’s ideas.

“He’s a _god._ There’s no way.”

_They knew how to contain me._

“So Thor can definitely get out. He will get out.”

_Not if they’re threatening to kill you or one of the others if he does. He won’t risk it._

“And even in the microscopic, infinitesimal instance that Hydra has come up with a way to contain a magical 640-pound cape-wearing alien, doesn’t he have that all-seeing buddy looking down on us? Surely Asgard isn’t going to sit around if some idiot humans have kidnapped a member of their royal family. They’ll send reinforcements.”

_It’s hard enough for Thor to get here now the Bifröst is destroyed. No one from Asgard is coming._

“Although maybe I’m going the wrong away about this. Maybe it’s not the heavy-hitters we need right now. I’d place money that Romanoff or Barton are going to practicality melt through whatever locked door Hydra had thrown in front of them, T-1000 style, and start strangling octopi left and right.”

Bruce perks up a little at that one. It’s more likely than the Thor theory anyway.

“Besides,” Tony rambles on. “There are more superheroes than just us six, you know? Rhodey’s going to figure out I’m missing and come, or Pepper will figure it out and- ” He breaks off.

“Tony?”

“Nothing.”

“ _Tony._ ”

“I just miss her, ok?”

He shifts uncomfortably, and Bruce can hear him bite back on a wince. They’re lying chest to chest with Tony’s head on his arm, Bruce doing the best to support Tony’s wounded shoulder with the mechanic’s hands still cuffed behind his back. He has checked the gauze as best he could in the dark, and the wound doesn’t appear to be bleeding any more. They had already passed time discussing what the bandage could be made of, and how to replicate it when they get back to their lab.

“And we are getting back,” Tony keeps saying, with as much of his arrogant confidence as he can muster. “As soon as we get out of this goddamn Box.” He smacks a foot into the side of it, pent-up anger and energy needing to go somewhere. He has tried to hit his head a couple times more but Bruce is now holding him in way in which he can’t. Tony had growled at him over the extra restraint when they already had so little freedom, but Bruce had bit back that Tony isn’t going to be any good to him with a concussion, and the topic had been dropped.

“So,” Tony finishes, his tone falsely cheery. “Three options. One - Thor or Thor’s equally badass alien buddies perform a heroic and timely rescue. Two - our assassin twins get to assassin-twinning. Three - we’re noticed missing back home and the calvary is sent running our way. Actually, I’m going to give us four, because Hydra is kind of Cap’s thing, right? And he’s beaten them plenty of times in the past. So, four - Captain Spangles wild card.”

He sounds so sure of himself that Bruce almost believes him.

“That said,” Tony continues. “We don’t know how long any of those options are going to take. So we need to start playing the long game. Which means you need to sleep.”

Tony’s words have the opposite effect, jolting Bruce into a more awake state than he has been since Tony got thrown back into the Box. “What? I can’t.”

“Because you think if you wake up and don’t know where you are you’ll panic and I’ll become a Hulk pancake.” 

“Don’t.” He feels Tony flinch at the harshness the word, and tries to soften his inflection as he adds, “Don’t make jokes about that. Please.”

Tony hums, making no promises. “The reality is that you’re exhausted. You’ve been exhausted for hours now. You’re going to fall asleep, Brucie-bear, like it or not. So if we let you do it now, we can control how it happens, and how you wake up.”

“What about you? You got shot, and it’s freezing, and -”

“I am well practiced in the art of sleep deprivation. You first.” Tony lets the joking fall out of his tone. “I’ll be here when you wake up. I’ll make it gentle; reassure you. I won’t let you Hulk out, I promise.”

“You don’t get to control that.”

“No, you do.”

“And what if I can’t?”

“You can.”

“You don’t know that!” The words echo around the Box as if Bruce had yelled them. Maybe he had. He doesn’t know, can’t keep track, because Tony is right about that at least - he’s exhausted. He’s going to pass out and he knows it and it’s terrifying.

“Hey,” Tony murmurs, all comfort and certainty and all the things he has no right to be in their current predicament. “We have to think long-term here. What if we wait too long and then we _both_ fall asleep? Because that’s going to happen if we don’t do anything. And I can’t promise to wake up any less panicked than you will, and then we might actually be in trouble. Well, more trouble.”

Bruce wishes he could adjust his glasses, long since lost in the Siberian snow, or wring his hands, or do anything except lie horizontal in this metal coffin, pressed up against his very fragile, human friend. But he can’t, so he takes a deep breath instead, trying to center himself. “Ok. Fine. You sleep first then.”

“I told you, I’m- ”

“You’re not fine. You got shot. You lost blood. And you’re freezing.”

“No. You first.”

“I can’t. Tony, I just…I can’t, ok? So please, just, sleep.”

There’s such a long silence that, for a moment, Bruce thinks that Tony has passed out, despite all his words. Then the billionaire says, “I don’t think I can either. Hey, who ever thought insomnia would be useful? Wait, no, I did. I get so much done. Ok, so neither of us are sleeping for now. So how about planning a fifth option?”

Bruce has to fight not to sigh. He knows this is what Tony needs; to be planning, to feel useful. His friend is going to snap if has to wait in the dark with no hope of rescue, so Bruce humors him. “What’s the fifth option, Tony?”

“We break out of here, go all John Wick on the base, and be home in time for a lovely dehydrated dinner. Dibs on that last Pad Thai. And I can’t do a good Keanu Reeves impression with my hands like this.”

“John Wick could probably take down a base with his hands tied behind his back.”

“Or, he’d be a total badass and break out of said cuffs first.”

“Fine.” Bruce feels his way down Tony’s back, grimacing as Tony takes the opportunity to make several suggestive comments, until he finds the metal cuffs. “Don’t suppose you have a bobby pin?”

“Hairstyling tools are a little sparse right now. But if you dislocate my thumb -”

_“Tony.”_

“What? You dislocate it, free me from the cuffs, then pop it straight back in. You’re a doctor, you’ll do fine.”

“How many times - I’m not that kind of doctor!”

“Well I’m not _any_ kind of doctor and yet I've spent the last few years resetting bones and stitching up wounds and whatever else our mess of a team needs, and I’ve done fine.” 

“You’re already injured, I can’t-”

Tony knocks his foot against the side of the Box in frustration again, then immediately hisses in pain.

“Tony?”

“Stubbed my toe. It’s fine. Now dislocate my thumb. I’d do it myself but the hole in my shoulder is making that a little difficult.”

“I think we should wait.”

This time, Bruce catches Tony’s foot with his own before he can hit against the metal again. Tony tries to squirm away from him but Bruce tugs him tighter, locking both of his ankles this time. “Stop it. You’re hurting yourself.”

“Let me go, Banner.”

“Do you promise to stop hitting yourself?”

“Technically, I’m hitting the Box.” He goes still for just long enough to try to trick Bruce into thinking he’s given up, but Bruce knows him too well and is ready for the inevitable escape attempt when it comes a few seconds later. Bruce pulls him closer towards him instead, one hand still firmly on the back of Tony’s head to stop him hitting it.

“Bruce! Stop it! Let me go!”

Then Tony’s really fighting him, and it’s only the confined space that lets Bruce keep hold, pushing them both sideways so Tony is trapped between him and the wall of the Box. Tony lets out a low moan, slumping forward into Bruce’s shoulder, a second before his breath starts speeding up. Every instinct tells Bruce to let go, but he needs to make sure it’s not another trick first. “Tony? Hey, breathe with me. You’re ok.”

“There’s no…there’s…” 

“Sh, sh.” Bruce slides away a fraction and, when Tony doesn’t make any move to start hurting himself again, he gives him another inch. “Sorry. Just, please, stop hitting the Box, you’ll only hurt -”

“There’s no air.”

So he’s avoided some external injuries and traded them in for a panic attack. _Great job, Banner._

_“_ There is, Tony,” Bruce whispers. “Listen.” He takes a loud breath in, then exhales slowly. “See? I’m breathing. You’re breathing. There’s air.”

“No…”

Then Tony begins to thrash and Bruce curses as he pulls Tony flush against him, wrapping his arms all away around him. The new restriction makes Tony panic even more, but Bruce can’t risk Tony hitting the sides of the Box, or himself, in a way that’s going to release the Other Guy. He can feel him, roaring below the surface, itching to break them both free. “Tony,” Bruce murmurs. “I’m sorry. But if you want me to let go, I need you to calm down first. Can you do that for me?”

“No air -”

“There is, there is. Listen.” Bruce resumes his loud breathing, long and slow, rubbing circles on Tony’s back.

“Yinsen, I can’t - I won’t build -”

Bruce has seen Tony in this state before, knows it’s better to play along until he’s come out of the flashback. “You’re not building a Jericho, remember? We’re building a suit. We’re going to escape.”

“Escape?”

“Yes. You tricked them into giving you the parts you need to get us out of here. They’re not going to hurt you anymore, remember?”

It takes another few agonising seconds, but eventually Tony pulls in a gasping breath and his erratic heartbeat starts to slow, slumping in Bruce’s arms. Bruce can feel the wetness on Tony’s cheeks, but he’s not going to mention that - not now, and not later. He’s about to ask if Tony’s ok, if the flashback has passed, when he realises that he’s finally asleep.

Bruce exhales, relieved even though, without Tony’s voice, there’s nothing left to distract him. He’s even more exhausted than before, if that’s possible, but the weight of Tony next to him is enough of an anchor to remind him what happens if he doesn’t stay awake. 

He spends all of ten seconds debating whether he can follow through on Tony’s request to break him out of the cuffs before deciding that he doesn’t want to think about that choice right now. He tries to return to the Ultron equations, but the brain fog is too thick now, the numbers swimming in front of his eyes.

So instead he thinks about Natasha. It’s not a conscious choice, and his thoughts about her aren’t coherent. It’s a jumbled mix of all their past conversations, filled with hidden meanings Bruce still aren’t sure are there. He thinks through Tony’s previous four options of rescue, and decides that if had to put money on any of them to work, he’d put it on Natasha. She’d free herself, and then the others, and then him and Tony. If anyone can do it, it’s her.

It’s a nice fantasy to stay in as he times his breaths to Tony’s, slipping into a meditation that lasts until there’s a loud sound from outside, and his eyeballs are suddenly flooded with harsh light.

It’s a moment of wild disorientation, because the Box hasn’t been opened. Tony jerks awake with a cry, slamming his head into the lid before Bruce can catch him. Bruce can hear him fighting the cuffs and tries to get him to stop before he damages his wrists, catching his arms in his own. “Tony. Hey, it’s Bruce. You’re ok.”

"Bruce? What -"

“Rise and shine, lads.”

Tony stills at the voice, then mutters a stream of curses. At least he seems to know where he is.

There’s a soft clink of metal on metal as something drops into the Box with them. Both Bruce and Tony flinch until Bruce pulls back, registering that it’s a small key.

“Here’s the deal,” Rumlow instructs them. “Unlock the cuffs and pass both them and the key out to me. If you’re good…” Rumlow shakes something and Bruce hears the slosh of water. “You get certain privileges.”

It takes several minutes of fumbling, the light through the slot in the Box not enough to see the tiny lock in the cuffs by, but finally Tony breathes a sigh of relief as his wrists are freed. Bruce passes the cuffs and key back out to Rumlow, and in return bottles of water and two thermal blankets are tossed in with them. 

“Any chance of a bathroom break?” Tony asks.

“The bottles are multipurpose,” is Rumlow’s response, before the slit is shut again, locking them back into complete darkness.

“Well,” Tony says after a beat of silence. “At least we won’t die of thirst, which I wasn’t thrilled about.”

Neither of them say what they’re both thinking. Water means Hydra want them to last. Which means they have plans to keep them in here a lot longer.

“Sorry about before,” Tony mutters. “I’m supposed to be the one keeping _you_ calm.”

“I’m calm,” Bruce assures him. “Panic attacks happen.”

“And always at the most inconvenient time.” Bruce hears Tony finish a bottle of water, counting that they now have five left.

“We should make these last. We don’t know when they’re going to give us more.”

“And I’d like to avoid the whole piss-into-a-bottle scenario as long as possible, thank you very much.”

Yeah, Bruce really doesn’t want to think about that. “Are you ok?”

“Peachy.”

“I mean it, Tony.”

There’s a long pause before Tony says, “Now probably isn’t the best time to tell you I’m claustrophobic, huh?”

“You’re _what?”_

“Wasn’t always,” Tony continues with a mock casualness. “But two months in a cave in Afghanistan, and then my suit freezing on me when I pushed it a little hard on a test drive…confined spaces aren’t really my thing.”

“But the suit -”

“I control the suit. It’s a part of me. That’s different.”

Bruce considers that. “In that case, I’m impressed that the panic attack didn’t come earlier.”

Tony huffs as he starts to unfurl a blanket. “I’ve been working on it. The anxiety. You’ve helped a lot, actually.”

“Me? How?”

There’s a blanket each, but Tony elects to wrap both of them in one, and then spread the second over the top of both of them, so they can keep sharing body heat. “I see you, you know. How hard you work at it - the Other Guy, and everything. We spend so much time in the lab together, it wasn’t long until I picked up some tips and tricks.”

Bruce isn’t sure what to say to that, but he’s saved from answering when Tony changes the subject and he forgets what they’ve been talking about in a second. “Your turn to sleep now.”

“What? Are you insane? Tony, you saw how you woke up. What if I -”

“Yeah, it sucked, and we weren’t prepared for it. Now I’ve learned from that experience and I’m going to make sure you wake up all calm and cozy and without a shade of green anywhere. You’re going to fall unconscious,” he adds, more firmly. “Whether you want to or not. So let’s do it in a controlled way, ok?”

Bruce shifts, feeling the weight of his eyelids. The blankets are finally making him feel something other than completely freezing. Even so, he feels like his body may as well be a wooden plank from the tension coursing through him. “I don’t think I could even I tried.”

“Well, I said the same thing. Nothing like a good ol’ panic attack to drain you. Don’t have a panic attack,” he adds quickly.

“Yeah. That wouldn’t be good.”

Tony shuffles so that Bruce is pressed up against his chest again, using Tony’s arm as a pillow. It’s only then that Bruce feels the dampness through Tony’s shirt around his hands, more than just sweat.

“Tony, your wrists.”

“They’re fine.”

Bruce pulls a hand out from under the blankets to touch, and Tony tries to jerk them away, but he’s trapped by Bruce’s weight and isn’t fast enough.

“Tony…”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“We can at least wrap them up a bit.” Bruce feels around until he finds the material that had been used to blindfold and gag Tony, wrapping the cloth around where Tony has mangled his wrists from battling the cuffs.

“Is this even hygienic? One of those was in my mouth.”

“No, it definitely isn’t. But it should stop them bleeding, at least. And protect you if…” _If they put the cuffs back on._

Neither of them want to talk about that possibility, so Bruce settles back against Tony’s chest, vaguely registering that this is the longest contact he’s had with someone for a long while. Probably since Betty. It’s not something he’s usually comfortable with, although he’d grown more used to it since moving into the Tower. Neither Tony nor Thor were known for their respect of personal space. Tony isn’t exactly usually one for touch either, especially outside a group of close friends.

“Are you ok?” Bruce asks again, before clarifying. “With, um, sleeping together like this?” He winces even before he’s finished the sentence, can almost feel Tony’s grin at the phrasing.

“Well, if I _had_ to pick a member of the team for a night of debauchery -”

“You know what I meant.” 

“It’s freezing cold and we have confined space. What else are we supposed to do?”

“I just know you can be a bit…you know, wary about touch, and all that.”

Tony is quiet for a long moment. “I didn’t think it was noticeable.”

“It’s not.”

“But you noticed.”

Bruce shrugs. “When you meet people, you’re always careful to touch them first. You take control of it. And you always put yourself between them and an exit, when you can. The only people you seem entirely comfortable with touch are Pepper and Rhodey.” _And me,_ Bruce realises with a start. He thinks back to all the hours they’d spent in the lab, Tony’s easy touches, pushing into Bruce’s personal space without a care in the world.

“I do the same thing,” Bruce mutters, when Tony doesn’t reply. “That’s why I noticed.”

“Well,” Tony sighs. “If got the choice of which member of the team I had to spoon with in a metal box, I’d pick you - for what it’s worth.”

“That wouldn’t be a smart choice.”

“Hey, have you turned green yet? No. Now go to sleep.” 

The words send a fresh stab of fear through Bruce’s heart. “I can’t.”

“You should. Here, I’ll even tell you a bedtime story.”

“Can it be one without erotic use of peanut butter?”

“You know, that actually reminds of this one time I was in Barcelona…”

Bruce assumes it’s going to be impossible to fall asleep. Instead, only five minutes into Tony’s story, he’s reminded again of just how exhausted he is, how warm it’s becoming under the blankets, next to his friend’s beating heart. Just how easy it would be close his eyes, just for a moment…

Bruce’s last thought before he loses the battle with consciousness is that he prays that he wakes up him, and not the Other Guy, and that he hates himself a little for being glad that Tony is there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Googled Thor's weight and yes, apparently he does weight about 640 pounds: https://screenrant.com/thor-body-secrets-facts-trivia/


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be your own cheerleader. Spell out your name with your body, although it is advisable to stretch first, so as not to pull a muscle. You don't deserve pulled muscles.

Natasha is fighting a dragon.

Bruce knows that’s important, that he should be helping, even though he can’t remember why. She’s quick; lithe and fast and strong, but it’s not going to be enough. She needs help. Bruce tries to get to her, only to find he can’t move. Quicksand starts to incase him; he’s sinking into the ground, unable to reach her. He yells out, but Natasha doesn’t turn her head, fighting until the dragon is decapitated.

She turns to Bruce, eyes filled with fiery triumph. Until the dragon sprouts two new heads and a set of razor-like teeth aims straight for Natasha’s throat as the quicksand swallows Bruce entirely.

Bruce jolts awake.

He blearily gropes for the memory of where he had been before passing out this time; which town or city or country, if it was voluntary or not, if he had intended to fall sleep or been knocked unconscious after an incident. It’s dark, but he’s warm. There’s someone beside him, rubbing gentle circles on his back and murmuring comforting things in his ear. There’s only one person who can do that, who’s willing to get this close to him.

“Betty?”

The circles pause, then the figure pulls him a little closer, still murmuring in his ear, things like “It’s ok,” and “You’re safe” and “I’m here.”

The figure who is all hard lines and smells like metal and motor oil. Who doesn’t feel at all like Betty.

“You back with me, buddy?”

Then it’s all back; Tony, Hydra, the Box. Bruce forces down a wave of panic as he opens his eyes and sees nothing but darkness, feels his shoulders pressed between the metal wall and Tony’s chest. It lasts for all of three seconds before he feels a sweeping relief. He did it. He slept, and he didn’t transform when he woke. “Yeah,” Bruce mutters. “I’m back. I was having the craziest dream…”

“Yeah, you kept telling Nat to burn the dragon.”

“Burn?” He doesn’t remember that part. “Are you ok?”

“Aside from being bored out of my mind? I’d settle for one of Cap’s lectures on teamwork or dishes or whatever right now. On repeat. At full volume. That’s how bored I am. Also, my arm is asleep.”

They begin the arduous task of rearranging themselves, Tony hissing as the blood rushes back into the arm Bruce had been using as a pillow. “How long?” Bruce asks, not really expecting Tony to have an answer. It’s not as though either of them have a clock in here.

Tony doesn’t answer immediately. “You were really tired.”

“What…what does that even mean?”

“So it’s not an exact science, but I was checking the walls of the Box. To see if they got warmer when the sun came back up.”

“And?”

“They got warmer. A little bit. I think, it could have been wishful thinking. Like I said - hardly exact.”

Bruce raises a hand out of their blanket nest, wincing when he feels the cool sting of air on bare skin. “It doesn’t feel much warmer.”

Tony doesn’t reply, but that’s answer enough as Bruce slots the pieces into place.

“Was I asleep a _whole day?”_

“Like I said, it’s not an exact science -”

Bruce moans as he slumps back against Tony’s chest. “Tony, I’m so sorry -”

“Yeah, we’re not doing that.”

“I left you alone in here for hours.”

“You needed the rest. It was still better than the SI board meetings Pepper drags me to. And hey, you didn’t Hulk out when you woke up! So I count this as a win.”

For all that Tony likes to tease Steve for his ‘giddy optimism’, Tony is sure giving their Captain a run for his money right now. Bruce doubts that his claustrophobic, prone-to-anxiety-attacks fellow prisoner is as fine as he’s trying to make out.

Bruce doesn’t press him though. “Did he come back?” he whispers instead, his voice hoarse. He starts fumbling around for one of their water bottles. “Rumlow?”

“I would have woken you if he had. Although you Hulking out while he’s sitting above your head would be something like poetic justice.”

“What did I say about joking about it?”

Tony deflects instead, pressing a water bottle into Bruce’s searching hands. “And, um, be careful with the water bottles. I had to make one of them ‘multipurpose’.”

Bruce drinks long and deep. Despite Tony’s theory that it’s been hours, he feels like he’s barely slept for five minutes. “Do you need to sleep?” he asks Tony.

“Probably.”

“But you’re not going to.”

“Maybe later.”

The words remind both of them that there is probably going to be a later - no signs of rescue yet. Bruce doesn’t even realise he’s listing Tony’s four rescue options from earlier until Tony interrupts him. “Hey, fun idea. Let’s wager on which one it’s going to be: Thor, Cap, Pepper and Rhodey, or one of the assassin twins. Winner gets dibs on that super comfy armchair in the TV room for a week.”

Bruce doesn’t even think about it. “Natasha.”

“Of course you pick Natasha. Fine. Um…Thor. I’m going with Thor - and that includes any reinforcements from his Shakespeare troop.”

“I thought you’d bet on Pepper.”

Tony changes the subject. “So. You and Atomic Redhead.”

“What about us?”

“What’s going on there?”

Bruce is suddenly glad it’s pitch black, because he's sure he’s blushing. “Nothing. What do you mean? Nothing.”

“You were muttering about her in your sleep, and don’t think I haven’t noticed you two sneaking off around the Tower at all hours of the night. Clint and I have a running bet that you’re playing hide the zucchini.”

Now he’s definitely blushing. “And which side are you betting on?”

“Oh, that you two lovebirds are definitely doing it. Come on, tell me you are, let me lord that over Barton when we’re all back home sweet home.”

“Yeah, sorry, but Clint’s right.”

“We both know that’s not possible in any universe. In fact, I’m shocked those words just left your mouth.”

“Nat and I are friends.”

“But you want to be more. Right?” Tony doesn’t give Bruce a chance to answer. “And don’t lie - you’re not exactly subtle. Neither of you are. And if Natasha wanted to hide it, she would. The fact that she’s _not_ hiding it says a lot.”

Does it? Bruce shuffles, trying to find a comfier position. All his muscles are aching by now, but there’s no room to properly stretch out without punching Tony in the face. Which he just might, if Tony keeps going down this path.

“Unless you’re still hung up on someone else?”

Bruce recalls muttering Betty’s name when he woke up, and groans inwardly, because there is no way Tony is ever going to let him live that one down once they're both safe. “Betty and I are over. Too dangerous. It’s the same reason Nat and I…I _can’t_. Not ever.”

“Why not?”

“I- are you serious? It’s damn obvious why not!”

Bruce feels Tony shrug. That, or he’s wriggling around for a new position as well. “I’m sure if you really wanted to, you could figure something out.”

“Tony…even with the slim chance of that happening, I don’t even know if Nat wants -” 

“She does.”

“- that. And even if she does, I don’t think _I’m_ there yet. Here.” He pulls his arms back to let Tony change up how he’s positioned, working both them back into their first position of Bruce’s head on Tony’s chest. It’s not exactly comfortable, but Bruce can feel Tony sigh in relief as he's able to stretch his legs out.

“You doubt yourself too much, Banner.”

“Words from a man who definitely does not doubt himself enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Tony, you jump into every situation headfirst and assume it’s going to work out fine.”

“Name one time.”

“Just one?”

“Yes, just one.”

“Ok, flying a nuke through a wormhole.”

“That needed to be done. And both me and New York are still here.”

“Chasing after the Mandarin without contacting your team.” 

“One glow-in-the-dark psychopath does not qualify as an Avengers-level threat. I handled it. Next.”

“You invited an indestructible monster to come and live with you.”

The words hang in the darkness between them for a moment. “Hey, that’s mean,” Tony finally says. “I know Thor secretly steals everyone’s hidden snacks, but I hardly think that makes him a monster.” 

Bruce feels Tony shiver and pulls the blankets more securely around them both. “You’re impossible.”

“Bruce.” Tony’s voice has turned serious. “You haven’t had one incident since you moved in. Not one.”

“You didn’t know I wouldn’t when you invited me.”

“The Other Guy saved my life,” Tony states. “Battle of New York. Falling from the sky. He caught me before I became a red and gold smoothie on the sidewalk. And that hasn’t been the only time, and you know that.”

“But you didn’t!” When Tony doesn’t reply, confused, Bruce adds, “Tony, you invited me to the Tower _before_ the Battle. It was on the helicarrier, remember? You barely knew me.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well then, call it a gut instinct. And hey, turns out I was _right._ Like always.”

“You’re insufferable. As well as impossible. Impossible, insufferable, and stubborn.”

“Thanks, I try. I’m just saying…Look, I’m not your boss. What you want to do with your life is up to you. I’ll just point out that we’ve been in this Box for nearly twenty-four hours, maybe, give or take like…ten hours. I’m not really sure. And we’re both still here. Because you’re in more control than you think. And if you really wanted something with Nat - with _anyone_ \- you could find a way. And if you wanted help with that…well, we could work on that together. If you wanted.”

“You already built Veronica.”

“For the worst-case scenario. You ever think about what we could do if we went after the best case?”

Bruce has no idea what to say to that. After a beats, he decides on, “Thank you, Tony” and means it. 

“Ok, I know we’re trapped in a metal Box in the middle of the Siberian wilderness, but that’s no reason to get sappy. It’s all selfish motivations anyway. I just like having someone around I can have a decent conversation with. Just promise me that if you and Romanoff run off into your happily ever after you’ll still make time to come play with me in the lab, ok? I thought a bit more about Ultron, by the way, while you were in sleepy-town.”

“Any progress?”

“Maybe.” There’s a beat of silence, which Tony can’t seem to handle because he breaks it immediately. “So you’re betting on Natasha to be our knight in shining armor?”

“Yep.”

“Because you have a huge crush on her?”

“No, because Natasha is terrifying.”

_“Bruce and Widow, sitting in a tree -”_

“You are an actual five-year-old, Stark.”

“ _K-i-s-s-i-_ shit! _”_

The slot is wrenched open with no warning, blinding both Bruce and Tony as they curl into one another, blocking their eyes.

“That’s cute,” Rumlow’s voice floats down to them. “Cosy?”

“Actually, I think we put the do-not-disturb sign up,” Tony shoots back at him. “So if you don’t mind - get lost.”

“You might want to hear my offer first, Stark.”

Bruce tenses, confused, but Tony seems to have expected this because he’s refusing even before Rumlow finishes his sentence. “No.”

“Sorry?”

“You heard me - no. Whatever Hydra wants me to build, or fix, or pay for - I’m not doing it.”

“Even if I offer to let you out of your current accommodations?”

“Tony,” Bruce hisses before Tony can answer. “Hear him out at least.”

Tony ignores him. “The answer is no. I didn’t do it for the Ten Rings, I didn’t do it for AIM - I’m not doing it for Hydra. Really, I thought you bad guys would have learned by now. Isn’t there like some supervillain conference somewhere? Maybe a newsletter, so you can keep up to date on what works and what doesn’t? Because this has never worked. Ever.”

“ _Tony,_ ” Bruce presses. Of course, he doesn’t want Tony to do a thing for their captors, but it’s the first shot they’ve had at getting one of them out, and Bruce doesn’t want to pass it up before he considers if they can use it to their advantage. “I know it’s not ideal, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep the Other Guy at bay, and if you can get out -”

“You’ve been doing fine so far.” Before Bruce can interrupt again, Tony finds his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I trust you.”

Just like that. As if it were really that simple.

For the first time, Bruce wonders if maybe it is.

“Fine,” he hears Rumlow say. “If your freedom isn’t enough of an incentive, I guess we’ll move onto Plan B.”

Then the small space is filled with the sound of Clint screaming.

The Other Guy roars up inside Bruce, demanding to save their tortured teammate. Bruce reminds him of their other friend still lying right beside them, even as he registers that Clint’s cries are too tinny, too staticky to be in the room outside the Box. He glances up sees Rumlow holding up a radio.

Bruce hears one last agonised sound from Clint before Tony is slamming his hands over his ears, pressing his head to his chest. It doesn’t block out the noise entirely, merely muffles it, but it’s enough for him to get a handle on the Other Guy, to force him back down as he roars his disapproval at him.

Rumlow and Tony are negotiating now, their words stifled, but still coherent. Bruce focuses instead on the pounding of Tony’s heart. It becomes an anchor as he forces himself to breathe, to stay calm, to stay _him._

He’s doing ok until Clint’s screams are replaced with Natasha’s.

Tony’s hands are holding his head like a vice now as he yells at Rumlow, and Bruce gives up trying to listen to their conversation and adds his own hands on top of Tony’s, and even that isn’t enough to completely drown it out. He isn’t sure if it’s Tony shaking or him or both of them, because he’s never, _ever_ heard Natasha sound like that. Natasha Romanoff, who he’s seen take a broken arm and a fractured foot with nothing more than a grimace at the time it would mean wasting at S.H.I.E.L.D. medical.

Clint’s voice joins back in, yelling at the torturers to come back to him, to hurt him and leave her out of it, and just when Bruce thinks he can’t take it anymore, hearing Natasha scream and Clint beg, the radio transmission is cut off and the only sounds left are their ragged breaths and thundering heartbeats.

Tony releases Bruce’s ears just in time for Bruce to hear Rumlow say, “I only need one of them to keep the alien and Rogers in line. Something for you to chew on, Stark. Should we give it, I don’t know, another twelve or so hours?”

Then the slit is closed and Rumlow’s gone.

Bruce speaks first. “What do they want?”

“The usual. Arc reactor technology. Iron Man suits for their agents. I…I can’t do it, Bruce. I can’t give that kind of power to them.”

“I know.”

“If they get that tech it’s risking millions of lives -”

“ _Tony._ I know. Nat and Clint know that too. They wouldn’t want you to do it.”

“I’ve never…” Bruce hears Tony swallow, hard. “I’ve never heard either of them…”

“Yeah. Me either.”

“They’ll kill one of them if I don’t.”

“I know,” Bruce says again, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “God, Tony, I know.”

“Cap and Thor won’t risk escaping - they’ll consider a teammate snuffing it too high a price.”

Bruce knows where this is going, starts running through the escape options they had outlined for themselves as he’s sure Tony already is. If Rumlow is telling the truth, then that’s three out of five options gone. No Cap, no Thor, no Nat or Clint.

“What about Pepper and Rhodey?” Bruce feels Tony stiffen next to him. “You said they’d notice when you didn’t check in - send reinforcements.”

Tony is quiet a long moment before he says, “Pepper and I…we’ve been having some troubles lately.”

“Oh. Um, what kind of troubles?”

“Basically that I said I’d stop. Blew all the suits, the whole shebang, really made a spectacle of it. Then Cap called and said Hydra was back and…”

“And here you are. And it’s a good thing, because we need you, Tony.”

“Hm.”

“We _do._ I’m sure Pepper understands that.”

“Yeah, well. Last time we spoke we fought. Badly. So if I don’t call for a few days, she’s probably going to think I’m sulking. Not, you know, trapped in a metal coffin in an evil lair.”

“Rhodey?”

“On an assignment in a classified war zone. So not taking calls anyway.”

“So why did you say-”

“Because I thought the team would come!” Tony’s voice echoes around their prison, too harsh and too loud, and he drops the volume of his next words. “That, or I’d think of a way out. I was just trying…I wanted to give you the best possible outlook. To help with…”

“Not killing you.”

“Yeah, that. Not that I think you ever would, but every bit helps, right?”

Bruce can feel his breath shortening, the walls of the Box pressing in on him. That was another option down. That was all their contacts, except maybe Hill, but after the whole S.H.I.E.L.D/Hydra fiasco the Avengers had been keeping their coordinates to themselves. Even if Hill figures out they’ve been captured, she’ll have no idea where to start looking for them.

No one is coming. Which means they have to figure this out themselves.

“Can you fake it?” Bruce says the words as low as possible, whispering them into Tony’s ear. He’s not sure how much can be heard outside the Box - they hadn’t heard Rumlow coming - but he wants to reduce the chances of his next words being overheard as little as possible. “Tell him you’ll do it, and then, you know…fake it.”

He feels Tony pause beside him, considering it.

“Similar to Afghanistan,” Bruce continues. “Tell them you’re building one thing, but build something else. Something to get us out of here - or at least get to the others, or to send a signal out to Pepper or Hill.”

Tony considers it. “That…could work. If they catch me though -”

“They won’t.”

“They might. And if they do -”

“I don’t see a better alternative. There’s not a single member of this team who would want you building weapons for the enemy, you know that right? Tony?”

“Sorry. Just thinking about…alternatives. A sixth option, if you would.”

“A sixth?”

“Hm. You won’t like it. Definitely a last resort kind of thing.”

When it becomes clear that Tony’s not going to elaborate, Bruce says, “Option five first then. We get out of this ourselves.”

“Ok. Ok, sure. It’s a good plan, Doc.”

It’s not a good plan; they both know that. They’re risking the lives of one of their teammates. But they’re risking more if they don’t.

“Do you think…” Bruce swallows, then continues. “They’ll need some sort of contingency once you’re in whatever workshop they’ve got set up. That I won’t, you know…”

“They might chuck another unsuspecting Avenger in here, yeah,” Tony agrees. “Probably one of our assassin twins. For your sake, I hope it’s Romanoff. Maybe you guys can use the time to work some of that unresolved tension out.”

“I’ll talk to Nat if you talk to Pepper. Deal?”

Tony groans. “Really?”

“Really. Don’t screw that up, Tony. She’s good for you.”

“I know. Shit, yeah, I know.”

“You should sleep,” Bruce presses him. “He said we have twelve hours, right? You’re not going to want to go into this exhausted.”

For once, Tony doesn’t fight him. He sighs and curls into Bruce instead. It’s not long before he nods off, occasionally flinching in his sleep, and leaving Bruce to mull over their conversation. 

_You ever think about what we could do if we went after the best case?_

What was the best-case scenario? For the past couple of years, Bruce had just been grateful to not have to worry about where he was going to lay his head, or if he was going to wake up to one of Ross’s soldiers firing at him. While he had been grateful for Tony’s offer of a bed and roof over his head, he had always assumed it was Tony’s reckless nature that had made him make the offer in the first place - that he hadn’t thought it through. And Bruce _still_ didn’t think he had thought it through but…

_I trust you._

And it wasn’t just Tony. The team had agreed not only to live in the same Tower as him, but they’d spent weeks with him in that quinjet. None of them had even questioned it.

_And we’re both still here. Because you’re in more control than you think._

And for a moment, Bruce lets himself consider a future that is more than just trying to avoid the worst-case scenario. A life. It’s something he hasn’t dare hope for in a long time. 

When Rumlow comes back, Tony pretends to agree to Hydra’s demands. The lid is opened and Bruce gasps in fresh air for the few seconds he can, waiting to see if they’ll throw someone else in with him to keep in line. 

They don’t - just issue the threat that if the Hulk is seen, Clint or Natasha will be killed, then lock the lid again, dragging Tony away and leaving Bruce to the dark and his thoughts.

They leave him there for days.

At least he thinks it’s days. He tries to keep track by using Tony’s trick of measuring the temperature of the Box, and he’s pretty sure it rises and falls at least another two times. He sleeps in micro-doses, not daring to let himself fall fully unconscious. He tries every trick in his carefully curated book; breathing, meditation, setting himself mental challenges. He starts with a chess game, imagining the pieces in his mind. He plays both black and white, winning and losing against himself, again and again and again until the brain fog of exhaustion starts to set in once more. He downgrades, listing every element of the periodic table by number, then alphabetically, first by name, second by symbol.

Nothing seems to shorten the unending time.

They start to feed him after the first day, letting him pass out the used water bottles and exchanging them for fresh ones. At first, there’s a glimmer of hope, that he can use the opening of the slit to measure time, but they feed and water him at uneven intervals. He knows it’s on purpose, designed to mess with his head and disorientate him further. He can feel the Other Guy’s presence growing, trying to rip him from the inside out, roaring to smash the base apart, but Bruce pictures Tony and Natasha and Clint in his mind and forces him back.

He imagines Tony, in whatever workshop Hydra has him set up in, working diligently away on an escape plan. Tony always has a plan.

_I trust you. You’re in more control than you think._

_I trust you._

Bruce has counted three heatings and coolings of the Box before the lid is opened and Tony is thrown in with him once more.

“Tony?”

Tony doesn’t reply, and Bruce immediately runs his hands over Tony’s head, checking for a gag. There isn’t one. They haven’t tied him up at all, but still he isn’t moving, isn’t saying a word as Bruce gathers him back in his arms to look for wounds - the first touch he’s had in days. For all his aversion to touch, he didn’t realise how much he’d missed it. That was new.

“What happened? What did they do to you?”

“They found out. That I was faking.”

The words are like being doused in icy water, and he doesn’t want to ask, thinks of a vague pun regarding Schrödinger’s Box (trapped in a Box, get it?) that doesn’t form enough for him to say it. Because until he asks the question, they’re both alive.

“Tony…”

“I tried.” Tony’s voice is a harsh whisper. “But they caught me and -”

Bruce can’t wait any longer. That's not true, he could wait forever. Not knowing. Both of them alive. Schrödinger’s Box. He asks anyway. “Who? Who, Tony?”

There’s a sound from his friend that could be a laugh or a sob as he says the next words, as Bruce’s heart falls through the floor.

“Natasha. They shot Natasha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to popular belief, I know exactly what I'm doing. So, um, don't hate me?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's important to try new things, even when they're scary. Like this chapter. I'm trying something new, and I'm a little nervous about it. Which is ok, because we are all fragile humans just trying our best.

"Bruce? Are you awake?”

“Mm.

“Do you remember that S.H.I.E.L.D. mission that went wrong in Ukraine? The one where Nat and Clint got captured and Fury sent us after them?”

“Mm.”

“Three days. Those bastards had them for three days. Sent a live stream straight to the Tower. Didn’t even ask for anything; just wanted to taunt us.”

“I remember.”

“And they were barely alive when we found them. Days in medical. Weeks in rehab.”

“I remember that too.”

“Do you remember that they laughed through it? Maniacs.”

“Mm.”

“You’d have to be, to do half the things they do. To have survived half the things they have. To have some psychopath wailing on you for days and to spit in their face and tell jokes and _laugh_.”

“Yeah.”

“Laugh. Not scream, Bruce. They didn’t scream. Not even once, not even when they were hurting one to rile up the other.”

“What are you getting at, Tony?”

“Three days and they didn’t break. Whatever Hydra did to them, it broke them in one.”

“Don’t. Please.”

“No. We need to talk about this. Because Rumlow’s coming back. And he’s going to try to get me to build weapons for Hydra again. And if getting out of the Box wasn’t enough, and saving a team-mate wasn’t enough, he’s going to turn whatever he did to make Clint and Nat sound like that on _me._ And if they broke in a day, the two people who are the most trained out of any of us to take torture and pain -”

“Stop.”

“- how long do you think I’m going to last before I’m doing everything the octopi tell  me to do?”

“You won’t.”

“I will. I will, Bruce. If they can break the _Black Widow,_ they can break me. Bruce. _Bruce.”_

“I’m awake.”

“They’re going to torture me. They’re going to pry tech out of me, and they’re going to use it to kill millions.”

“The…the sixth.”

“That’s right, buddy. The sixth option. I have one. One that doesn’t put me in Hydra’s torture chamber, one that doesn’t put dangerous tech into Hydra’s hands, and one that gets you and the rest of our team out in once piece.”

“Tell me.”

“Because they’re going to break me. Or they’re going to go after someone else on the team and break them first and then break me anyway. And then I’ll be building weapons for them just like I swore to never do again.”

“Tell me.”

“And no one is coming to save us. No one. We’re out of options. Except this one.”

“Tony. Tell me the sixth option.”

“The sixth option is you busting out of the Box and tearing this place and everyone in it apart, and then you take our friends home.”

“Bruce."

"Answer me."

“Banner. Talk to me.”

“No.”

“No, you won’t talk me?”

“No, I won’t do it.”

“Why?”

“You’re seriously asking me why I won’t _kill_ -”

“If you don’t do it you’re sending me off to be tortured and endangering innocent lives. Plus you’re resigning Clint, Steve and Thor to whatever fate Hydra has lined up for them, which won’t be pretty.”

“Stop it.”

“You stop it. You can stop all of it, Bruce, if you just -”

“No. Tony, please…”

“Look do you think I want to die? Because I don’t. I really fucking don’t, ok? Just like I didn’t want to put the nuke through the wormhole and die in outer space but I did it. Why? Because it was the right thing to do. And I know ‘the right thing’ is a bit of new concept for me but even I know that if the choice is between my life or millions of others, or…or the life of a friend, then -”

“Natasha wasn’t your fault.”

“It was. We both know it was.”

“It was Hydra. Not you.”

“Tony? It wasn’t your fault.”

“Did…they do something else? Before they put you back in here?”

“What did they do? Tony, what did they do to you?”

“They…they made me…” 

“Hey, it’s ok, it’s ok. Talk to me.”

“They, um, they made me say some stuff…”

“What stuff?”

“A message for the rest of the team. They…they made me tell them. In a recording. That she was dead, that I had caused it and -”

“You _didn’t_ cause it.”

“I did though, Bruce. I did. You want to know how? Not because I risked faking tech, or because I got caught. Because I knew that plan wouldn’t work, and I did it anyway. Even though I had thought of this option when Nat was still breathing. And if I had just sucked it up and done it then, then she’d still be here!”

“Tony! Stop!”

“I could have saved her."

“You’ll bring them back here!”

“She’s dead because I didn’t -”

_“STOP!”_

“Let me go, Banner.”

“Not until you stop hurting yourself. Jesus, Tony, did you _break_ your hand?”

“Does it matter? The Other Guy is about to break a whole lot more. Come on, Big Guy. Time to come out. Get us out of here. Time to take the team home. HULK! GET OUT HERE! Just…finish it. Just get it over it with. HULK!”

“Bruce?”

“Bruce, please talk to me.”

“I’m sorry. Bruce? I’m sorry, ok? I’ll stop.”

“You’re a bastard, Banner. A selfish bastard.”

“I’m sorry. Please talk to me.”

“You’re one of the most selfless people I know. And…one of my closest friends. I don’t um, have a lot of those. Not great at the whole thing, really. Maybe that’s for the best. But, even though it’s selfish, I’m glad we’re…well, you know. You do know, right?”

“Bruce?”

“Bruce, I’m _sorry.”_

“Tony…”

“Hey. Are you…are you ok?”

“Let me see your hand.”

“There’s nothing you can do. Maybe I should break the other one. Can’t built shit with broken hands.”

“Please don’t. Please.”

“Ok, ok. I won’t. Just…don’t go quiet on me again. Ok?”

“I…”

“Please? I didn’t mean to…I wasn’t thinking. Well, ok, I was thinking. But it was about me, as usual. I wasn’t thinking about you. Damn, Bruce, if you started to yell at me to shoot you with an Iron Man repulser I…I’m sorry. That was dumb. Even for me. We’ll think of something else, ok? I’ll get you out of here. I’ll get the whole team out of here.”

“Including you?”

“Sure, why not.”

“Tony…I need to sleep. I can’t…I can’t hold on.”

“Ok. Ok. Of course…wait, did you sleep at all? When I was out of the Box?”

“Not…like halfway…couldn’t risk…”

“Yeah, you need a nap. Come here.”

“Feels nice.”

“Yeah it does. Alright, go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Tony?”

“Mm?”

“You’re not going to…when I’m asleep, or when I wake up, you’re not going to try and get…you’re not going to try and trigger the Other Guy?”

“I’m enough of a bastard to have considered it. I don’t think I’m enough of one to actually do it.”

“Promise?”

“Pinkie-promise.”

“Swear on your mother’s grave.”

“Jesus, Banner.”

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Ok. Sure, fine. I swear it on…on my mother’s grave. Now go to sleep.”  
  
“I won’t…when I wake up I won’t…”

“Hey. I know. I trust you, remember?”

  
  


_Bruce._

  
  


_Bruce._

_Nat?_

_Hey._

_Where are you?_

_You’re running out of time._

_Where are you?_

_I’m nearly there._

_No, you’re gone. You’re gone. You’re not…anywhere._

_I’m coming. I’m getting you out of this._

_You can’t._

_Why, because I’m dead?_

_Because this is a dream._

_Dreams are our subconsciouses working through what we already know. You know, Bruce._

_Know what?_

_You know._

_Hi, Bruce._

_Betty?_

_I miss you._

_I miss you too._

_Stay._

_I can’t._

_You have to, Bruce. You have to stay. You can’t get near him._

_Ross?_

_No._

_Who?_

_You know who._

_Tony._

_Stay, Bruce. Bruce, stay. Stay, please stay, Bruce stay -_

  
  
“Where am I?”

“Bruce? Hey, bud, you’re-“

“Why…why can’t I move?” 

“It’s ok, hey, I’m here, remember? I’m right here and -”

“Let me out.”

“Bruce, calm down, the sun’s getting real low -”

“Let me out, let me out, let me -”

“BRUCE!”

  
  


“Tony?”

  
  


“Tony, please answer me.”

  
  


“Tony. No no no no no no -”

  
  


“Please wake up.”

  
  


“I didn’t mean to. It was just…it was just for a second. I only lost control for a -”

  
  


“Tony?”

  
  


“I’m sorry. I’m so…oh god, I’m so…”

  
  


“It’s going to be ok, alright? You’re going to be ok. I’m…I’m going to get you help, ok? HEY! HELP! HELP! YOU WANT STARK TO BUILD YOUR ARMY FOR YOU? THEN HELP HIM! Help him, help him, help…”

  
  


“Help. Just help.”

  
  


“Wake up! Now! You stubborn asshole, get up!”

  
  


“You’re one of my closest friends too. You know that, right? My closest friend, actually. And I know I complain about well, a lot, but when you just asked me to move in, just like that, no reservations…it meant…it meant everything. That you didn’t just see…I don’t think I ever told you that. And now…”

“The Big Guy should have just eaten that bullet.”

  
  


“I haven’t thought that in a long time. Not since the Tower, and the team. Not since you.”

“Tony.”

“Tony.”

“Please.”

“Tony…Tony, do you hear that? Listen it’s…Tony. It sounds like…It is. It is it is it is it has to be. It has to be. Hey, you won our wager. That comfy chair is all yours. Nearly there. They’re nearly here. Just hold on, ok? It’s going to be ok. It’s going to be ok. It’s going to be -”

  
  


_“They’re in here!”_

“It’s going to be ok.”

“In here! Bruce…Oh my god. It’s ok, now, alright? We’re here, we’re getting you home, just give me your hand, ok?”

“Tony first. Please, Steve -”

“Ok. I’m taking him, alright?”

“My fault.”

“We’re going to get you home, Bruce. Both of you. Look, see, I got him. Let’s get you both back to the jet.”

“Steve…you need to know…Natasha…”

“She’s right behind me, alright? Thor and Clint are clearing a path for us to get you out of here.”

“Steve? I’m here, where…Jesus. What the hell did they do to them?”

_“Nat?”_

“Hey, hey. I’m right here. Let me help you up, alright? Bruce? Are you…”

“Is he _laughing?”_

“Hysteria. I got it, you take care of Tony. Bruce? I need you to listen to me, ok?”

“Nat, Nat…”

“Sh, it’s ok, now.”

“The dragon…”

“It’s ok, I got you.”

“It’s a dragon, Nat.”

“Sure, ok, it’s a dragon. Want to tell me more about that once we’re out of here?”

“A hydra, it’s like a dragon. But their symbol…their symbol…it’s an octopus. Why on earth is it a octopus?”

“Bruce, please, we need to move. Don’t make me make you.”

“Move. You need to move.”

“We both do. Come on.”

“No. No, you need to go. Get Tony out of here.”

“Steve has him, ok? Now we need to follow suit.”

“You need to go.”

“Bruce- ”

_“GO!”_

“Ok. Team? Cap and I have Tony, we’ll meet you up top. Bruce is…he’ll meet us out there.”

_“NOW!”_

“I’ll see you outside, ok? Ok?”

“Bruce?”

“I’ll see you soon, Bruce. Time to go, Steve. Move it.”

“What’s happening Nat?”

“Go. Go go go go before -”

  
  


“HULK SMASH!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the comfort chapter of the hurt/comfort left!
> 
> So I don't usually ask for comments/feedback, but if you do have a second to let me know if this chapter worked for you or not, I would be really grateful. I took a risk, I hope it paid off? And if it didn't it didn't, but hey, fanfic is the perfect place to try out new things to see whether or not they work, right?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your comments and feedback on the last chapter, they were very kindly worded and helpful for future writings x

“Bruce?” 

“Nat?”

“I’m right here.”

“You sound…why do you sound far away?”

“I’m not. I’m here. Go back to sleep.”

“Hey, man. How are you doing?”

“Where’s Tony?”

“He’s ok. You both are. Didn’t manage to put an arrow in Rumlow’s face, but other than that - everything’s ok.”

“Hello?”

“I’m right here, Bruce.”

“Steve. Where-”

“Tower. You’re safe.”

“Natasha. Tony.”

“We’re all safe, Bruce. Just rest, ok?”

When Bruce finally wakes up properly, he’s in a bed. A real, soft, honest-to-god bed. The lights are on, but dimmed, and when he stirs he can stretch his arms all the way out to the sides, colliding with something warm and solid on his left.

He flinches, struggling when large hands find his. “It’s alright, Banner, it’s just me. It is good to see you awake.”

“Thor?” He turns his head to see the god beaming at being recognised. “How long was I out?”

“You have been in slumber for three days, although our fellow teammates have assured me that you have woken several times.”

“Have I?” He suddenly grabs Thor’s hand for balance, even though he’s lying down, as the room around him tilts sideways. The familiar, round room, with a triple-locked door and impenetrable glass walls.

“Tony?”

“Alive and well, although still weak from your imprisonment. He wishes to speak with you, now you are recovering.”

“No!” Bruce clutches Thor’s arm with both of his, meeting the god’s blue eyes. “Don’t let him come near me.”

“I do not understand this request.”

“Promise me. Just keep him away, ok?”

He doesn’t get to hear Thor’s answer, because the room is spinning, and it doesn’t go away even when he closes his eyes and gives into the rushing filling his head.

The next time he wakes there is no one by his bedside, and that realisation comes with such a dizzying combination of relief and loneliness that for a long time all he can do is lie still, eyes closed, focussing on his breath.

“Hey.”

The voice makes his eyes fly open. The chair Thor had been perched in is now empty, and his hands don’t connect with anyone as he starts to sit up, even though the voice had felt almost impossibly close.

“Bruce. On your left.”

Natasha. On the other side of a glass wall, looking exhausted in a way he’s never seen, but there, unhurt and alive, a book propped open in her lap.

“Nat?”

“I’m right here.”

Bruce looks around, takes in the Hulk containment unit that he and Tony had spent weeks building and testing and maintaining. Tony had said, “Just in case the worst happens”. Bruce had replied, “Just in case the inevitable happens.” 

“How are you feeling?”

Bruce takes stock of his body. Unhurt, as always. It’s never him that gets hurt. “Tired, mostly. Everyone else? Tony? Clint?”

“Fine. We’re all fine.” There’s something in her tone he’s not picking up, so he turns to look at her, and he realises he’s never seen her…he thinks the word his tired brain is looking for is _sad_ , and then he settles on _vulnerable._

“I have something you need to hear. Ok?”

When Bruce doesn’t reply, she holds a tape-player up to the microphone she’s speaking to outside the glass, and hits play.

Bruce flinches when Natasha's recorded screams echo through the walls of the containment unit, interspersed with sounds of metal on skin and Clint swearing and issuing death threats in the background. “Why -”

“I need you to listen.”

Then there’s a reprieve, a male, accented voice - not Rumlow’s - demanding the location of something, some kind of intel or weapon, Bruce isn’t sure. He forces himself to listen harder as Clint yells back. “We told you, it’s at the docks! It’s scheduled for departure at 2300 hours - just leave her alone!”

“We caught the dock shipment two days ago.”

“Impossible.” Natasha’s voice sounds weak, broken. “Our contact -”

“You mean Kovalenko? I thought you were meant to be the best, Romanova. And yet you do not notice the spy amongst your own ranks.”

There’s dead silence over the recording, except for the static of the tape running. Then, Natasha’s voice again, but this time strong and cool and confident. “So Kovalenko is our leak. You owe me dinner, Barton.”

Then all hell breaks loose, the sounds of fists and kicks and gunfire, but it’s over almost as soon as it began, Clint’s voice breaking the silence that follows. “Fine, my shout. What do you want?”

“Varenky. With sauerkraut. And strawberries.”

“Gross.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re buying.”

Natasha hits the stop button. “What was that?” Bruce asks.

“A recording from a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission Clint and I were sent on about six years ago. It’s been sitting in the archives ever since. I don’t imagine it was hard for Rumlow to get his hands on it before S.H.I.E.L.D. went under.”

The pieces are slotting into place as all the wind goes out of Bruce’s lungs. “Hydra never had you. Any of you.”

“No,” Natasha says quietly. “After they shot Tony out of the sky and we lost you in the woods, we were outmatched. So we retreated to make a plan to get you out.” She places a hand against the glass. “We came as soon as we could, I promise.”

“I know you did.”

“Does Tony know? About the recording?”

“He does now. He’s kicking himself. Steve tried to give him the whole ‘it’s not your fault’ speech but…well, you can imagine how well that went over.” She glances towards the tripled-enforced door to the containment unit. “Can I come in?”

For a moment, there’s nothing Bruce wants more than to touch her, to feel that she’s really here, alive and unharmed, to confirm that those awful noises of pain he had heard were only part of a ruse from years in the past. Then he remembers Tony, lying bone-chillingly still and silent by his side in the darkness, and recoils.

“No. Stay where you are.”

“Ok,” she replies, putting both hands up. “Whatever you need.” She looks towards the door again. “The locks respond to your handprint and voice. You’re not a prisoner. This,” she gestures to the unit “was just a safety measure. And we had Thor on standby, just in case the worst happened when you woke up.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“It was more to make you feel safe than us,” Natasha assures him. “None of us actually thought you would. Although if you had, we wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“You should blame me.” Bruce cuts her off before she can argue. “I hurt him, Nat.” She doesn’t need to confirm who he’s talking about. “I lost control. Only for a second, but it was enough. I heard…I heard him hit his head. And then he wouldn’t wake up and I thought…I thought…”

“Hey, it’s ok. He’s fine, just a concussion.”

“He trusted me.”

“He still trusts you. We all do. You know that, right?”

“You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t, Nat.”

Natasha’s hand is back on the glass, looking like she wants to say more, but there’s nothing else to say.

“Tell Tony to stay away,” Bruce tells her. “Don’t let him come up here, ok?”

She is saying something else now, but Bruce drowns her out, turning on his side so he can’t see her face anymore.

They all come over the next few days, and Bruce talks to none of them.

Natasha is easiest. She brings a book and takes sentry on the rickety stool she makes seems like a cozy armchair outside the containment unit. Bruce doesn’t look at her, doesn’t acknowledge her, and she responds in kind, waiting for him to make the first move when he’s ready. When she leaves she slots the book through the slit in the door. He hasn’t touched a single one. They’re beginning to form a pile.

The others aren’t so patient. Clint tosses anything he can find at the glass, repeatedly hitting the same spot right beside Bruce’s head, prattling on about anything and everything, not seeming bothered by the lack of response.

Steve tries to talk to him, well-meaning and earnest and everything Bruce doesn’t want him to be. He wants Steve to yell at him, to admonish him for harming a team member, for being stupid enough to fall for Hydra’s tricks. He thinks of the three or so days he had been alone in the Box, where he could have broken out at any time, grabbed Tony and gotten them out of there. But Hydra had lied to him and he had believed it. He wants Steve - any of them - to chew him out for it, to reflect the voices incessantly circling round his head.

Thor’s visits are both the hardest and the easiest to take. Hardest, because he can’t understand why Bruce won’t leave the containment unit, won’t rejoin the team, won’t speak or acknowledge him. And easiest because Bruce knows that, at least if there’s an incident, Thor can probably take the Other Guy down before he does too much damage. Probably.

He doesn’t let Thor in the containment unit again anyway.

He’s lost track of the days by the time he hears footsteps he can’t place crossing the lab towards him. Natasha and Clint he usually doesn’t hear coming, and they’re too light for Steve or Thor. He settles on Clint not caring that Bruce can hear him approach when he hears the all-too-familiar voice. “We should really get the interior decorator up here. This place is bleak.”

Bruce’s whole body goes rigid. The footsteps stop, and he hears weight being lowered onto the stool, followed by a curse. “The Power Rangers have been visiting you for days and didn’t think to replace this thing? There are literally a hundred or so chairs comfier than this in the Tower. It’s a _tower.”_

“Go away.”

“Ok.” Immediately, the joking tone is gone. Tony’s voice is quiet, deflated. “I’ll go if you want me to, ok? I just came to say -”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m sorry, ok?” The words explode out of Tony, crackling over the microphone that transfers sound into the unit. “I know the others said you didn’t want me here, but it’s been driving me crazy. And I’m not exactly one for apologies so I’m probably not great at them - scratch them, I’m anything but great at them. But I needed to say it.”

Bruce opens his eyes, finally turning around. Tony is perched on the stool, forehead leaning against the glass as he holds one hand up like Natasha had on her first visit. His arm is in a sling, hand in a cast and a moon boot on one foot, and Bruce feels a fresh wave of guilt, pressing both hands over his eyes.

“Ok, I’ll go. Maybe this was too soon. But I just wanted you to know that…I’m sorry for asking what I did. Hydra threw us both for a loop, and I reacted badly. And you have every right to be angry about it but -”

“What are you on about?”

Tony pauses. “I’m apologizing, remember?”

“For what?”

“You know what! For going kamikaze and asking you to be the bomb! That’s why you asked me to stay away right? Because you’re mad at me.”

“What - no!” Bruce rolls to his side, propping himself up on his elbow, wincing as he feels the days of inactivity catch up to him. “Tony, I’m not…I _hurt_ you. I almost killed you.”

“That is a gross exaggeration.”

“Look at yourself!”

Tony uses his good hand to point at his shoulder. “Hydra.” He gestures to his bandaged hand, then his foot. “Me being an idiot. The rest is me is fine. Thanks to _you._ Is that…is that really why you asked me to stay away?”

Bruce feels the stirring of something like guilt. “Yes. Not because…ok, I didn’t love that you asked that but -”

“Aha! You are angry!”  
  
“I’m always angry.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony hesitates on the stool for a second longer, then stands. “Alright, this is ridiculous. I’m coming in.”

Bruce tries to scramble to his feet but gets caught in the bedsheets. “No, don’t, it’s not safe -”

“You’re fine.” Then the door is sliding open and suddenly Tony is in the same room as him, with no reinforced glass between them.

“Get out.”

“Not until you talk to me properly. And then leave with me because, frankly, this is getting beyond stupid.”

“GET OUT!”

There’s a tint of the monster in his voice, a flash of green in his eyes, and he hates a little that he’s doing it on purpose to scare Tony, to get him to leave, because Tony _should_ be scared of him. They all should.

But Tony stands his ground, one eyebrow cocked as he stuffs his hands in his pockets and doesn’t budge. “A little dramatic, don’t you think?” 

So Bruce buries his head in his hands instead, sliding down the glass wall. “You’re an idiot.”

“Excuse you, I’m a genius. And so are you. Which is why you have to know that the way you’re acting makes no sense.”

Bruce can feel Tony getting closer, tries to hunch away from him, but there’s nowhere to go as Tony slides down the wall beside him and lays a hand on his knee. Bruce flinches and the hand is gone, but he can still feel Tony’s breath beside him, hear his heart beating, far too fast and far too loud for comfort. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“You won’t. Except maybe, on occasion, the odd bad guy. And they have it coming.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“I did.”

_“Bruce._ Hydra locked us in a confined space for days and took away any hope we had of rescue. They put us through days of torture. They made us think one of our closest friends was dead. And through _all_ that, you transformed a little, _once_ , and then immediately got control back.”

“It was enough.”

“To what? Conk me out for a few hours? I’ve had worst injuries from playing around in the lab. Or, get this, from _members of our own team._ Remember when Cap threw me just a tiny bit hard in sparring and I fractured my tibia? Or when Clint was convinced he could knock my coffee out of my hands with a letter opener _without_ nearly slicing off a finger?”

“Accidents.”

“Exactly. They happen. Occupational hazard.”

“This was different.”

“How?”  


“Because…because I’m me. I’m this _thing_ -”

“That _thing_ has a name and he’s saved our bacon - my bacon - far more times than he’s endangered it.”

“Stark? You’re- ”

“Impossible, insufferable, and stubborn. I know.”

Bruce feels a tentative hand on his knee again, and slaps it away. “Stop touching me.”

“Ok. I won’t. Consent is sexy and all that.”

“Did you talk to Pepper?”

“Don’t change the subject. And if you’re going to try you could at least attempt to be subtle.”

“Did you?”

“Did you talk to Nat?”

“There’s nothing to talk about! I can’t have…I can’t offer her what she deserves.”

“I think she at least deserves a say in that, don’t you?”

Bruce risks raising his head, eyes falling on the pile of books Natasha has shoved through the door. There’s a particularly large one on top. Bruce can only view half the title, but he recognises the cover of _Stranger in a Strange Land_ , the shirtless man caught between Earth and Mars.

“Ok, we can talk love lives later,” Tony presses on. “And if you want me to leave, I will. For now. But can we at least clarify the reason you don’t want me around is that you’re unrightfully blaming yourself when you did nothing wrong, and not because you’re pissed at me? At least more than usual?”

“You should go because it’s not safe here, and you know that.”

“I don’t know that because it’s _not true_.”

Bruce rips his eyes away from the book, risking a look at Tony, who is still sitting far too close to Bruce for comfort. “Then why is your heart beating so fast?”

There’s a long pause, and for a second Bruce thinks he’s won, that Tony’s finally going to see reason and get as far away from him as possible. “Because I’m scared.”

Bruce sighs. It hurts to hear, even it’s what he wants Tony to think, because that’s safer.

Then: “I’m scared that I’ve messed this up.”

“Messed what up?”

“This.” Tony gestures between them. “I meant what I said. In the Box. I don’t- Friendships aren’t the easiest for me. Mostly because I assume pretty much everybody wants something from me - money, power, sex, whatever. And I’m usually dead on the money with those assumptions. So finding someone who not only doesn’t want those things but can keep up with me in a conversation is not something I really want to lose any time soon.”

“I hurt you.”

“So you said. Hey, remember the time Rhodey and I strapped big suits of armor around our bodies and took shots at each other in my house? We still do Taco Tuesdays.”

“I just…” Bruce considers looking up, but decides to stick with the safety of his palms. “I removed myself as much as I could from people to prevent hurting anyone and now…”

“We live with two of the world’s most dangerous spies and a god who could wipe the floor of a medium-sized state if he chose to. Even Cap has a fair amount of kills under his belt - war is war and all that. And then, you know, _me,_ who may well have more blood on his hands than all the others put together. And that actually was my fault. Don’t deny it - we both know it’s true.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that you treat us - and me - like we don’t see the Other Guy for the danger he is. We do - why do you think I built this place?” He gestures around the containment unit. “But what you forget is that we also see _you._ I see someone who not only kept a lid on their Mr Hyde for days, but willingly stayed in a metal coffin and pissed in bottles to protect his friends.”

“I -”

“Don’t downplay it. A lot of people would have just made the call and gotten out. You even had a noble reason for doing it - four friends’ lives over one. But you didn’t. You stayed in control. And we’re both still here because of it. _I’m_ still here because of it, ok? Now will you please come out of this glorified fish tank and come have dinner with us?”

Bruce peaks between his fingers, unsure. “Who’s cooking?”

“Barton. And I know our Hawk is useless for a lot, but damn, he can cook.”

Bruce’s eyes drift back over to _Stranger in Strange Land._ He’s read it once, a long time ago, and knows it doesn’t fit into Natasha’s usual genres of page-turning thrillers or trashy murder mysteries. It’s also far too long to be one she has read while sitting at his bedside and, come to think of it, he hasn’t seen it in her hands even once. So she dropped it off for him then.

Tony must have seen him staring, because he gets to his feet with a sigh, crossing the room to toss the large volume across to Bruce, who fumbles it. Tony makes some comment about making Bruce new glasses, but Bruce is too focussed on the bookmark poking out between the pages. He turns to the page Natasha has marked for him.

“What, is there a love note in there? If the Black Widow writes love letters you are legally obligated to tell me.”

Bruce runs his fingers over the words, whispering to himself. “I grok.”

“You _what?”_

Bruce re-reads the line Natasha has underlined. “Do you remember when we were talking about when Clint and Nat got caught in Ukraine?”

Tony’s brow furrows. “I remember everything from that damn Box. Unfortunately. What about it?”

“They laughed through it. You said they were maniacs for it.”

“I stand by that.”

“I laughed. When Natasha pulled me out of the Box. After I realised that Hydra had tricked us I couldn’t stop. The whole thing was just so…I don’t know, just so damn funny.”

Tony’s back at his side, although still careful not to touch. “Ooohkay. Hey, this isolation thing hasn’t cracked you up entirely, has it?”

Bruce meets his gaze. “You make jokes. About the Hulk - all the time. I thought…I thought you didn’t take it seriously but -”

“Brucie, honey? You’ve really lost me. In a vaguely concerning way I might add.”

“Here.” Bruce pushes the book across to Tony, reading aloud the passage Natasha has marked for him. _“I found out why people laugh. They laugh because it hurts so much…because it’s the only thing that will make it stop hurting.”_

“Ok?”

Bruce leans back against the glass, letting out a deep breath it feels like he’s been holding for days. “Maybe it doesn’t make sense after all.”

“Try me.”

“You make jokes about the Hulk. About all of us.”

“That’s kind of my thing, Jolly Green, yeah.”

“I always thought…I always got mad when you did it, because you didn’t take it seriously. But you do. You joke _because_ you’re serious about it.”

“Am I meant to be following by this point?”

“You joke because you know _exactly_ how much damage the Other Guy can do. What _I_ can do. You’ve always known. And you trust me anyway.”

Tony throws up his hands. “We spent days in a coffin together with you not believing that and it takes one little note from Romanoff to get it through your skull? I’m offended.” He raises his hand over Bruce’s knee again, tentative.“Ok. Um, I know you said no before but…When was the last time you touched someone?”

Bruce remembers the rough feeling of Thor’s hand on his arm, days ago. “You don’t like touch.”

“I don’t like touch with a lot of people. You’re not one of them.”

Bruce hesitates, then nods, and Tony places the hand in the sling on Bruce’s knee and slides the other around his shoulders, pulling him against his side. It’s a little more than Bruce had bargained for, but he doesn’t protest, instead leaning into Tony’s side. It feels nice. Familiar. Safe.

“Does this revelation mean I’m allowed to make Hulk jokes now?” 

“Since when has being allowed ever stopped you?”

“Hm.” Tony shuffles so they’re both in a comfier position. “See? Nice and cosy. And no impending Hulk-out.”

“Thank you, Tony.”

“You don’t have anything to thank me for.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“Hm. Also I, um, might have lied to you a few minutes ago.”

Bruce stiffens. “About what?”

“Clint’s not cooking. Steve is.”

“Oh god.”

“Yep. And you are going to come down with me and inhale as many tasteless and lumpy mashed potatoes as you can stomach and tell Cap’s puppy eyes that it was _great._ ”

Bruce groans, not noticing until he’s done it that he’s slumped a little closer against Tony’s side, and Tony has let him.

“And then I’m going to heal and you’re going to get back on your feet, because we’re not done taking down Hydra yet, and we need you. Both sides of you.”

“But not in Siberia, right?”

“God no.” Tony shudders. “I’d be happy to never return to Siberia again, thank you very much. We got one more, somewhere in Eastern Europe called Sokovia. They think the sceptre’s there and everything. And then Hydra should be down for good. Hopefully. Maybe. Those guys are like cockroaches.”

“And then?”

He feels Tony shrug. “Always going to be more threats. Thor will probably head back to Narnia, and I know Steve wants to get back to his Brooklyn roots, and Clint will go…wherever Clint goes when he’s not here. But, you know, would be nice to have some company in those labs still.”

The offer is so open, so casual. “Yeah, well. The work’s never done.”

“Attaboy. Right, trenches-style potatoes time. Up you get, let’s go.”

It turns out to be Bruce giving Tony the hand up, with his multiple injuries, but Tony beats him out the door of the containment unit, turning to him with a raised eyebrow. “Coming?”

“Um…” Bruce hesitates until Tony holds out a hand, eyebrows raised. It would be so easy, to stay here, behind reinforced walls, where everyone is safe from him.

Instead, he takes Tony’s hand and lets him pull him out into the open, guiding him towards the door to where their team is waiting for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part about Bruce hearing Tony's heartbeat was inspired by [5 Times Tony took care of an Avenger and 1 Time they took care of him (whether or not he liked it)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25917442/chapters/62989012) by the wonderful [QueenOfALotOfDifferentWorlds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfALotOfDifferentWorlds/pseuds/QueenOfALotOfDifferentWorlds) which has my utmost recommendation for your next fic to go and read!
> 
> You can check out my other Bruce & Tony fic [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26738935/chapters/65233669).

**Author's Note:**

> So hey, I have this film and screenwriting podcast? It's called "Kill the Cat" and once a month my co-host and I and break down one of our favourite movies or tv shows and look at why they work, including Harry Potter, The Princess Bride, Brooklyn Nine-Nine and, of course, the MCU.
> 
> You can check it out on [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Ypaen3yM5Q&t=1s&ab_channel=KilltheCatPodcast), [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/show/5hCprc9UCBZP4srFrBXKT1?si=ZOqdhMlVQvqV2fG5PxuvOA), or anywhere you listen to podcasts. 
> 
> And hey. You're doing great.


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